


Sunlight in your mouth

by Omano



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Heaven, M/M, Pre-Fall, Puppy Love, Wing Grooming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omano/pseuds/Omano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gadreel is a love-struck puppy. But he is Michael's to love and be proud of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunlight in your mouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justmariamay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmariamay/gifts), [adarksweetness (chayaasi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chayaasi/gifts).



> I didn't plan this to be this long, and I'm still occasionally unhappy with it (mostly because of its length and how basically nothing happens in it) - but I refuse to sit on this piece any longer. 
> 
> I hope you'll find something to like about it :)

 

 

The garrison landed on the lush green grass and in tense, expectation-strained silence they tucked their ruffled wings against their backs. Under the combined weight of two archangels’ gaze they didn't dare to start their usual chattering.

After a moment of whist Raphael pulled herself to her full height, her mighty wings fanning out way above her head; a dark dome of stormclouds with flickering bolts of lightning. All the angels suddenly jerked to attention. The air around Raphael bristled with silent satisfaction. She cut a quick glance at the Prince of Archangels at her side. They both looked pleased.

"Tomorrow," Raphael started solemnly, "You all will be assigned your tasks to serve the Host and most of all our Heavenly Father to the best of your abilities. In the past months your progress have been constantly monitored and evaluated. You had your chance to prove yourselves as devoted servants of the Lord. Now your training has ended.” She paused for a second. “Some of you might rejoice."

At that a wave of careful smiles rolled over the garrison. Raphael allowed them this much.

For the  moment they needed to regain their calm she looked over at her brother again. Michael’s eyes never left the future warriors. Yet, she could be certain that the tiny spark of her forbearing delight didn’t go unnoticed.

“Also a good warrior knows when it is time to rest,” she went on cutting a glance to the left wing where some feathers bristled restlessly for a few more hours of flying to perfect their maneuvering skills. Their general’s presence had made them restless. Childishly eager instead of humble. Father have mercy, what were to be of her Watchers at this point? “So now in your usual pairs go back to your nests, groom each other and make sure you aren’t late for tomorrow’s annunciation.”

Raphael inclined her head and after a short minute of chaotic swarm of wings and the sound that would put a susurrant beehive to shame the angels slowly settled at the side of their usual grooming partner under the archangel’s watchful eyes.

“What do you think?” Raphael asked softly.

“The plan is perfect,” Michael answered.

Raphael nudged her brother’s grace through the brush of feather to feather.

“You want to know if they are better than Gabriel’s.”

She made a soft sound. “That was never a question.”

Michael blinked long, like those big cats basking in the sun. “You worry I don’t share Lucifer’s opinion.”

“Well, do you?”

It was Michael’s turn to hum. His gaze wandered, taking a momentary rest at all the angels on the field, graces shot through with that strange buzz of energy that paints such a beautiful contrast to the soul’s exhaustion. Then he came to regard a group of four. One of their gentle but strong lavender glow just attracted his attention. This was how long he could hold out on succumbing to its temptation.

“Again, Michael?” Raphael asked, her tone neutral. “If you’re not careful you’d be accused of playing favourites.”

“We both know that it is not true. I have no more saying in our Father’s plans than you or the smallest speck of dirt on Earth.”

Raphael sighed. “I’ll ignore that you just mentioned me and _a speck of dirt_ in the same sentence. Both of you better be on time tomorrow.” Then she turned to usher the last flock of angels back to their nests while his big brother indulged in… whatever he had been indulging himself in recently. She had had the suspicion that there might be some ulterior motive to Michael so often taking over this garrison’s training so willingly. Not like his presence was anything short of inspirational, but the amount of time he had lately spent with Gadreel swooning a little at each glance the archangel had thrown his way… That raised some rather curious questions to say the least.  

 

“Ezekiel,” Michael called out.

As he drew near silence befell the little group of angels, and the one bearing the name immediately straightened his stance as if a lightning struck him. Opposite to him (now half behind his back) Gadreel fought a failing battle not to allow his growing excitement show on his face. He could already feel his cheeks flush and eyes start to glimmer with a beautiful fever that the archangel’s burning grace infected his own with.

Michael stopped in front of them, his attention turned to Ezekiel.

“You should rather help Bezaliel and Nuriel to their nest.”

Ezekiel’s eyes widened. His mouth worked around words of protest before he could finally stutter them out, “But I’m Gadreel’s partner, archangel…”

“Gadreel will be fine,” Michael declared with finality in his voice and a sharp glint in his eyes. “Getting Bezaliel back to the nest however, would require another pair of wings.”

The other two angels almost suffocated to swallow down their embarrassed giggle, Nuriel more successful than her grooming partner.

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

Ezekiel sent Gadreel an apologetic look before he stepped over to comply with the archangel’s orders.

Soon the ground had been cleared and it was only Gadreel and Michael trailing the retreating forms of their brothers and sisters with their eyes.

When he turned back, Gadreel realized with a tinge of embarrassment how the other’s gaze was resting on him instead of the azure horizon. Must have been for a while. Before he could open his mouth however, Michael spread his wings and with a slight wave of his hand urged Gadreel to follow him.

 

Gadreel couldn’t help but feel out of place, inadequate and undeserving, whenever he was granted access into the chambers of glowing marble and universe-painted walls. And yet, each time his heart filled with gladness.

The gold-embroidered dark blue and royal red coloured draperies flew in the constant breeze of the galactic storms that stilled and hushed in the archangels’ quarters. The rooms and corridors were vast like the space they had been called to life from. However, their terrific grandeur turned to mesmerizing beauty at the first sparks of Michael’s grace. Tiny flames flickered on the gold candelabras, soft shadows shrunk the distance in which the walls met in the corners.

Gadreel would never get used to it.

He wondered if this was how it felt for Michael to be first of their kind in their Father’s ever-growing, shifting, shrinking, bursting and expanding world. He quickly grew embarrassed of such thoughts. They halted his steps, and he risked losing sight of Michael’s red cloak.

When the archangel stopped, just still inside of Gadreel’s field of perception, Gadreel couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach. He bowed his head and hurried after his General.

He loved and adored Michael. Sometimes he savoured the tentative thoughts how some of his fond feelings might even be reciprocated to some extent. But then he always reprimanded himself. He couldn’t afford to dwell on such thoughts too much. Gadreel wasn’t different from any of his siblings. And he wasn’t unique at all in his zealous admiration for God’s Blazing Sword.

Why he got sampled time after time to be groomed by Michael? Probably only the other three Archangels were in the position to make wild guesses. Gadreel? Definitely not. So he ducked his head and followed the red-orange glow of eternal flame in front of him, trying to reign in his puzzled, overjoyed thoughts by the time they reached the centre of the eyrie.

Michael smiled at him. Just a tightening of warm shadows around his lips, but it was enough to make a new, glimmering galaxy burst in Gadreel’s chest.

“Quick adaptation is a substantial quality,” Michael noted. In the pool of pillows where he stood, expectant, waiting for the other angel to get over his awestruck little self, the golden armour was undone, clasp by clasp, layer by layer, until it fell completely from the archangel’s shoulders.

Gadreel pressed his chin against the cold metal of his breastplate.

“I’m ashamed I lack such important skills.”

“Don’t be. It is learnable and repetition could be the key we need. Now, come closer.”

Gadreel’s ears were burning.

He hurried over to Michael. Already mid-stride he clawed at his clasps and strings that held his own armour together, but all he managed was to jerk the belts even tighter around his form, now the plates cutting into his grace.

When sun-kissed hands reached out to brush his own away and help the weight of the garments off his frame, all he could do was press his lips into a tight line and keep his eyes averted. The deep, disdain shadowed crease at the side of his nose was directed at himself.

How humiliating.

Today he was supposed to prove that he was worthy of whatever role God had planned for him. And right now the only thing he proved was that he was clumsy, slow on the uptake, easily swooned and awed, distracted - he even failed to notice when he was eased down onto the pillows, and when did Michael get behind him…

As soon as the archangel trailed only the very tip of his strong fingers along the line of his shoulder Gadreel’s mind was scrubbed clean. When Michael got to work on grooming his wings he already half-melted into the heap of pillows, their silk cover cool against his skin for only a second, as he was already growing dizzy with the heat of his big brother’s overwhelming presence.

Michael’s initial touch always hurt. By now, however, Gadreel had learnt not to flinch or shy away from it. His mind was preoccupied by the fear of the burn no more, as now his grace didn’t blister.

Gadreel often wondered if Michael could feel him.  

Sometimes, especially when their little escapades started, Michael reached too deep into the fibres among the feathers, intruding to the deeper layers of Gadreel’s grace, bursting moon rocks and cracking raw cobs ore that left Gadreel breathless and paralyzed. Later Michael’s grace barely even brushed the very surface of the other’s. As if he was simply taking wild guesses of his exact whereabouts.

By now, those times were long behind them.

Michael didn’t burn, and Gadreel grew only as soft and malleable as a candle held in a warm hand.

“The other day I heard the Morningstar praise you,” Michael said, startling Gadreel out of his state of dazed daydream. Something intangible resonated in his regal voice on the ocean’s rolling waves. “He praised your flight.”

Gadreel felt heat rise to his cheeks, and slowly spread down to his shoulders. When he spoke he felt a pang of embarrassment as his voice shook.

“He all but complimented my feathers. How - how orderly they are.” He swallowed. “This is more of an applause to your work than mine.”

Michael’s finger traced Gadreel’s flight feathers, twisting one back to fall in line with the rest, now without putting a strain on the others. In the gentleness of the motion lay tender warmth, such fondness that Gadreel didn’t know how to deal with it. So instead, he folded his arms on top of a dark blue pillow, and rather buried his giddy smile in there. This was a highly unreasonable and unmerited behaviour for a soldier.

Whether Michael caught his reaction, and whether he frowned upon it, he didn’t let it show. Moreover, as he sank his burning hand among the secondary feathers, there was even a little smile flickering in his grace.

“There is a fine art to reading and misreading Lucifer’s words,” Michael told him softly, his breath scorching the fine hairs at the back of Gadreel’s neck. “And while none may be the master of such arts… I enjoy certain privileges in knowing our brightest brother. And he did praise the set of your wings, how they shield and bar unlike any crossed swords.  Your fierce devotion to the mission. The strength of your hands - made to carry a sword. He spoke in high spirits about you, Gadreel.”

At this point Michael’s hands felt almost cold as they skilfully seeked out the oil glands in Gadreel’s wings.

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Then don’t say anything.”

“But I should! I feel like I should thank him. Profoundly.”

“Thank our Father that He created you in such ways and that He made it so that His gifts could flourish and bloom in you,” Michael said. “Rejoice in your gifts, but steer away from pride. Always remain humble, Gadreel.” He stroke down the fluffed up feathers along the bone of the right wing. “Thank Lucifer, when he compliments you through his own words, not mine.”

_His own words, not mine._

Gadreel felt the words resonate in his chest - they did that with such force like the scales of the earth collide and then one ducks beneath the other spilling liquid rock as burning blood between them. Now that magma filled and heated Gadreel from the inside. Hot words spurted into his mouth that he could barely filter through his teeth. His tongue felt numb.

“Thank you, Michael.”

A hum vibrated through the archangel’s being and it made Gadreel tremble in kind. Then, as Michael’s arms sneaked, below his wings and around his waist to clasp loosely on his stomach Gadreel melted.

“See?” Michael murmured, his lips ghosting the amethysts embedded in Gadreel’s shoulder. “You’re getting smarter at reading archangels.”

“You only speak between the lines half of the time, after all,” Gadreel noted.

A soft laughter sprinkled the precious stones up the line of Gadreel’s neck until the last piece settled below his jaw.

“You’re getting cheeky.”

“I cannot grow into anything that has not been set in the Divine Plan.”

Michael pulled at some of the feathers in Gadreel’s left wing, in a mean of fond chiding, but before Gadreel could stumble over his words again, making excuses or digging an even deeper hole for himself was up to debate, Michael set two fingers against his jaw and tilted his head so that he could better reach the Gadreel’s chin with his lips.

The entire Host had been at one point privy to witness the great love Michael held for his siblings. More than once, but all had seen the way their eldest greeted the other archangels returning from missions or long periods of separation.

They witnessed Michael and Gabriel embrace. They heard the Messenger’s jingling laughter as he swatted his big brother away after he had pressed a kiss to his temple.

They had also seen Michael and Raphael clasp hands, like brothers in arms, but their hold lingered in a heartfelt silent conversation of reassurance. And they had seen Michael press a kiss to the very top of Raphael’s forehead; his upper lip lost in the soft stormcloud wisps of her hair, his lower lip leaving a burning mark on the constellations over her brows.

And then there were those greetings they never mentioned; they grew shy even just thinking about such intimacy that, even in Heaven, seemed rude to intrude on. There were the kisses that burnt forever and more on Lucifer’s cheeks and forehead, suns glowing gold to highlight his own radiance. Then there was the bright star that reverent lips pressed to Michael’s brows, care and adoration exchanged.

But Michael had never kissed anyone on the mouth. No-one except for Gadreel.

Gadreel was the one to be enwrapped in the heart of a volcano, sanctified in its white heat, and he was the one whose lips were touched by burning coals. The burst sparks set fire to his teeth and flames licked into his mouth to dance on his tongue. In such embrace he was hallowed, everything and nothing at the same time; he settled, like planets on their orbit, peaceful and content in their track around the sun - the middle of their universe.

“Are you nervous, Gadreel?” Michael asked a breath away from Gadreel’s mouth. “About tomorrow?”

He quirked a brow high in question. “Should I be?”

Michael only smiled, small and serene, a pull in Gadreel’s grace. It tugged at the very root of him, calling sweetly for him to take flight.

“Were you?”

“I wasn’t given the time.”

It made perfect sense. After all Michael was the secure ground below and the ever-present sky above to hold the Host up and keep them from floating away. It was only natural that he had never had a flicker of doubt of his own.

 

 

Gadreel was used to being left for last, keeping his stance erect standing his ground like the mountains rooted in the core of the Earth. That was the cost of Michael having singled him out for preening.

This time was terribly different. Now he wasn’t alone. The Host was lined along the walls and along the endless tiers of galleries.  The day before he pledged he would remain true to Michael’s example. Nothing could seem frightening after all when he was exchanging kisses and gentle words with the archangel; not when every syllable sounded with the power able to set stars on their track. Now, however, bathing in the white sacred light of the glimmering hall, well. It was an entirely different situation.

He couldn't help but desperately search for Michael's gaze in hopes of some reassurance. He could not be left behind, alone without an appointed task, could he?

Was this the reason why Michael prodded if he was nervous? Was that a subtle sign that he eventually really did fail to read?

But Michael wouldn’t have bothered with him then, right?

_Right_?

At long last Michael raised his eyes at him, his face glowing and solemn.

His voice boomed through the halls proclaiming for the entire Host to hear. "Your strength and faith have been tested and evaluated, Gadreel." He produced a big sword and held it out in both of his hands for Gadreel's mesmerised eyes, "You have been appointed to guard the Garden of Eden."

Gadreel stepped forward, relieved, awestruck, humbled and fully aware of his unworthiness.

Carefully he took hold of the big sword, fingers brushing with Michael’s.

For a second the world stilled. Gadreel was ready to fall prostrate, enwrapped in grace so pure and great, to give praise, to swear he would grow to deserve to bear the weight of the sword - what a beautiful burden! But he was stunned even more so by the flickering warmth of pride in Michael's beautiful sea-coloured eyes. Michael was proud of Gadreel's mission. That felt like the greatest accomplishment he could ever hope for.

 

 


End file.
